


Red Tailed Hawk

by Ursula



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-02-15
Updated: 2001-02-15
Packaged: 2018-11-20 09:11:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11332740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ursula/pseuds/Ursula
Summary: Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived atThe Basement, which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onThe Basement's collection profile.





	Red Tailed Hawk

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Red Tailed Hawk by Ursula

Title: Red Tailed Hawk  
Fandom: X-Files  
Pairing: Alex Krycek/Walter Skinner/ (Fox Mulder)   
Rating: NC-17  
Status: New  
Spoiler Alert: Up to season eight.  
Archive: Anywhere, as a complete story. If you have a constructive critique and wish to use a portion, contact me directly.  
E-mail address for feedback: or   
Series/Sequel: No  
Other websites: My page at RATB, thanks to Ned & Leny: http://www.squidge.org/terma/ursula/ursula.htm  
Disclaimers: Walter Skinner, Fox Mulder and Alex Krycek belong to Fox TV, Chris Carter, and 1040 Productions  
Spoilers: Major ones for Requiem and minor ones for other Stories  
Notes:  
Thank You to HollyIlex for a wonderful and educational beta. I think I may have finally grasped punctuation within quotes. The woman has potential as a remedial education teacher if that actually sticks in my head. There are one of two phrases in the story that really belong to her or Lorelei. They were too graceful not to use just the way they were suggested.  
Thank You to Lorelie, for her beta despite having the flu and being a virgin beta, now deflowered. This is also her Christmas present. It just took a long time to wrap.  
Thank You to Karen S., I never feel a story is done until she has seen it. I think Karen caught the last of my mistakes, but any remaining are mine alone.  
Disclaimer: The strong and beautiful Walter Skinner was crafted by the talents of Chris Carter, the X Files writing team, and the actor who so stalwartly plays him. Alex Krycek is the object of my worship and was created by the same great team. Fox Mulder again is not my creation. I wish he was though. The same applies to Dana Scully, John Doggett, and various pieces of X Files myth-arc that I have borrowed for this fan fiction.

* * *

Red Tailed Hawk  
X Files Slash/Discipline (Krycek and Skinner)  
By Ursula

Out there, he was out there; Walter sighed as he gazed into the night sky from his balcony.

Without warning, Krycek's voice cut through his fugue. 

"Just like you, Skinner, staring into space when you ought to be looking for him."

Walter whirled. He hadn't even heard the bastard come in. His rage drove him across the narrow strip of concrete between the balcony rail and the doorway where Krycek stood. There was a solid thud and a whoosh as his fullback rush took the man down. His forearm pressed relentlessly down across the vulnerable throat. It would have been so easy to just crush the larynx and watch the man drown in his own blood.

Green eyes glared at him as the frantic heaving of the man's hard, lithe muscled body sought to dislodge him. Walter knew he had the advantage and was determined to keep it. The man was strong and adamantly clung to consciousness. 

Mulder. The thought intruded over the need for revenge. Krycek had shown up here for a reason and Walter's missing lover was the most likely cause. Walter held Krycek pinned while he searched him. Damn, the palm pilot wasn't on him although otherwise the man could have been the centerfold for Assassin's Monthly.

A blistering heat crawled from Walter's groin to the top of his bald crown as his mind traveled over the image he had conjured. Krycek, naked except for his assortment of weapons, lounging in seductive nudity across a dark velvet textured background. 

Shying away from his suddenly salacious imagination, Walter made a mental note to visit someplace professional and discreet soon.

With a quick pull, Walter dragged Krycek by an ear away from the pile of guns, knives, garrotes, lock picks, and other occupational tools of the man's career of deviance. 

Krycek yelped and said, "Skinner! Lay off. You think I showed up here because I missed Mulder using me for a punching bag? Not hardly. You and I have a mutual interest..."

"Not unless you're suicidal." Walter commented as they reached his living room.

"Mulder." Krycek replied.

A surge of jealousy blistered a path through Walter's body. He had seen Mulder grab Krycek in the garage after that meeting. Vindictively, he had moved on, thinking that his lover would continue the assault he had stopped earlier.

Now, Walter suspected that Krycek had managed to say or do something that recaptured Mulder's attention. He knew that the red-hot relationship with his partner was something the man had never forgotten. Its addictive siren call had colored every violent encounter since. 

"You set Mulder up," Walter stated flatly, letting go of Krycek and shoving him away.

"Right. Which is why I went straight to the old devil when I heard and did what his mother should have done at birth. It was a mercy killing. I put him out of our misery. I don't know how Spender knew that the aliens would grab Mulder, but he did." Krycek said. 

The man sat down abruptly on the couch, cradling his artificial arm in the real one. His head drooped, a beautiful grace note of surrender.

"I'm looking my way. You're looking your way and neither one of us is finding him. I came here to propose an alliance."

"What kind of fool do you think I am?" Walter demanded.

"Same kind that I am. A fool in love with Mulder," Krycek retorted. "Hell, I'm not pretending to myself that I'm good enough for him. Give me some credit for facing my own nature without any illusions."

Fuck it all. Walter found he responded with sympathy to the soft lost tones and the defeated posture.

Turning away, he said, "You want me to believe you? Give me some proof that I can see. I want the device you use to control the nanocytes and an antidote."

Krycek squatted to gather up his belongings.

He said, "Wait for Scully's call. I left everything she will need in the lab."

His gaze was a scalpel, a sharp thrust through Walter's defenses. 

"You call the number I left when you make up your mind. Just consider this. You have the inside road, Walter. He trusts you. For me, it's just a hopeless dream."

The words seduced him. There was no doubt in Walter's mind that Krycek knew how to play them all. He knew he was giving in, signing a bargain with the devil.

^^^^^^^^^^

If it were a different world, Walter would have loved Dana Scully. She was easy to look at with her Irish beauty, fresh, fair skinned, with red hair that begged for a hand to tumble it. Her intelligence and strength just added to her appeal. Yet he had failed so miserably with Sharon that Walter didn't trust himself with another woman. He spoke the language of men so much better.

Still, Dana was a friend. She didn't trust him with a wholehearted devotion, but Walter doubted she even gave that sort of commitment to Mulder. 

Her hand soothed him as she strapped him down to a treatment bed. This private surgery belonged to one of her former classmates in medical school. Dana was the sort of friend you kept forever and the plastic surgeon seemed used to "no questions asked". Walter looked at all the pretty faces portrayed on the walls and absent-mindedly tried to pick out Krycek's features from the variety of options shown. He couldn't quite find any of the features, no elfin ears, flippant tease of a nose, but it didn't matter, Krycek's beauty was an elusive masterpiece, demonstrating that nature remained the maestro at this human art.

"The lab reports seem to be straight forward, but remember the source," Dana said, as she drew an amber liquid into a large syringe. 

"I do." Walter said, "Still I believe him in this instance..."

Scalding sensations seemed to burn from within. It felt like his veins were exploding. Foul smelling sweat, thin and red, soaked the paper sheet beneath him. He fought the bindings, raving and cursing at the pain. Hearing his voice cursing, Walter felt his throat muscles constrict until nothing was left but a mad thin whisper of sound. The pain shattered him and he faded into blessed oblivion.

^^^^^^^^^^^

Waking, Walter felt a warm cloth easing over his body. He felt sore as if he had participated in a triathlon. Dana's voice soothed him and he realized to his embarrassment that she was the one bathing him. He opened his eyes and saw her expression, slightly wistful, tender, even a little self-absorbed. She blushed too when she realized that he was awake to feel the cloth lingering over the strong developed muscles of his stomach.

"I would never have thought of Mulder as a lucky man until now," She said, tossing back her head and eyeing him with mischief.

"He told you?" Walter asked, shocked.

Her laughter was a rippling sound like bare skin moving against satin sheets. Dana was a sexy woman. "What do you think? Mulder can keep a secret, but not from me. His eyes give him away. Don't worry about it. At least it took his mind off the rat bastard. What is it with Mulder that he always seems attracted to preying mantis types that eviscerate him for pleasure?"

"Moth to the flame." Walter commented. He felt drained. Still, he wondered if he should get up. He moved once he was sure that he was no longer strapped down.

"Just relax. Richard doesn't need this room. He's on vacation. He and his nurse were just on standby if I needed crisis support. Your vital signs were stable enough except at the worst of it," Dana said, drawing a blanket up to Walter's chin.

"What about the nanocytes?" Walter asked anxiously.

"He kept his word for what ever reason. Your blood tests negative now," Dana said. "Crazy as it seems, for all the shit Krycek has done to us, I believe he has feelings for Mulder. The room's full of sheet lightning when they're together."

^^^^^^^^^^^^

A man might feel sorry for Krycek. The next time Walter saw him, the double agent had bruises and scrapes marring his face. Walter didn't ask what happened at that point. He accepted the scraps of information and let Krycek leave.

However, about a week later, Krycek limped in his door like someone who had been through a wrecking machine. He listed to one side and winced, touching the ribs on his right side at intervals. Walter saw that hunched inward look of abstraction he remembered from the hospital after Vietnam. 

Walter asked, "Krycek, what the hell are you doing with yourself? Have you lost your touch? Maybe you need to take me for backup on these excursions."

"Right, you really want to watch your career flush down the toilet? No, you stay in your world and I'll stay in mine. Like I told Mulder, I gotta live with the rats,"

"It looks as if the rats are winning," Walter commented.

Krycek ducked his head in acknowledgment. Walter considered it. You spend years building a gruff reputation. The damn truth was that you were a sap underneath, still the big clumsy boy trying to put a splint on a seagull's wing no matter how many times the wicked beak scored you.

"I bought you some vodka even though I suspect that you're no more Russian than I am," Walter said, walking to the liquor cabinet. 

He poured a shot and then moved to the kitchen, finding an assortment of bread, cheese, fruit and vegetables Kim had brought him for lunch. He'd forgotten to eat it and brought it home so as not to hurt her feelings. He grabbed the food and brought it to the coffee table, shoving it toward Krycek as one might do toward a starving feral dog.

Krycek's eyes beheld him for a long moment. He shrugged, winced as if that was a mistake, and took a small portion of the food. Walter filled a paper plate to keep Krycek company, and then found that he was genuinely hungry. The meal had been prepared to eat with one hand while Walter worked. There was more then enough for both of them. Poor Kim always worried that he might not be feeding himself properly.

Taking a sip, Walter savored the burn of the vodka; it was a rare self-indulgence and one he indulged in with parsimony. When he filled Krycek's glass, he left his own empty. Leaning back, more relaxed than he ever thought he could be in Krycek's company, Walter watched Krycek devour every last crumb on the plate. 

Trying to think if there was anything else in the refrigerator that didn't require elaborate preparation, Walter asked, "You want anything else?"

"No. That was good. I didn't even realize I was hungry until the food was actually in my mouth," Krycek replied. He belted back the second shot of vodka and then leaned back, perhaps listening to Ricki Lee Jones, decanting sex note by throaty note in the background.

Walter picked up the few dishes and brought them to the kitchen. By the time he was back, Krycek had fallen asleep, mouth open, every line smoothed from the misleadingly innocent and outrageously beautiful face. His first impulse was to kick the man out of his apartment, but as he stood over the man to act upon it; he found that he couldn't do it.

Instead, irritated beyond a saint's patience, Walter found a blanket and draped it over the sprawled body. He went to his bedroom and readied himself for bed. Worn sweatpants and a misshapen tee shirt soothed his skin after the starched boundaries of white shirts and knotted ties.

Before going to bed, Walter checked on his unwanted house guest again. Krycek didn't stir and hadn't moved from the awkward position in which he had fallen asleep. He sighed as he considered that Krycek's neck would be stiff for days if he slept the night in that position. 

Familiar with trauma, he stood off to one side and said, "Krycek, you may as well spend the night. Let me help you with those boots."

The eyes that looked at him were wide and terrified; they reminded him of those of the littlest victims of the war. Toddlers and infants too small to understand why their world of milk and lullabies had become a cradle of pain.

Walter said, "I'm going to touch you now. Ready?"

"Don't..." Krycek whispered in a sleep-roughened voice. "Don't hurt me now."

Feeling unjustly accused, Walter answered, "I haven't yet." Not that he was making any promises.

The half boots were expensive custom-made leather. The soles would grip like a cat's paw and would be as noiseless. "It's cold. I'll leave your socks on," Walter said.

"Kay..." the drowsy voice said, heavy lidded eyes already closing. Walter straightened, reached a hand out for some reason to touch the cheek, wrinkled and pink from lying against a couch seam. Thinking better of it, Walter fled from temptation as if the devil was after him. 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

The bedroom was no escape from Walter's uneasy mind. He lay on the bed, one arm behind his head and the other splayed across his firm stomach. His sharp mind analyzed the situation.

Right after Walter was discharged from the military hospital he went through a genuine back to earth period of soul searching. Holed up in his Uncle Sergei's cabin, Walter had grown his hair long, added a beard that eventually reached his chest and went weeks without seeing another soul. As far as the cabin was from the woods, it was still not far enough to protect Walter from an unpleasant fact of country life.

Hiking down to the highway one day, Walter had seen a flash of black and tan in the periphery of his vision. He spotted the dog twice over the next week until he heard it after the chickens he was raising in an attempt to supplement his discharge pay. Running out, he had aimed a gun and then seen the dangling teats. He couldn't do it.

Coyotes or starvation got the rest of the litter, but Walter saw the one skinny pup gamboling beside his mother. He had started to put food out. The bitch would not come near enough to touch, but she took to showing up a few moments before he filled the dish. Sometimes he'd find her lying silently in the yard, brown eyes holding all the sadness in the world staring at his door. He would crouch and talk to her while the pup played with her tail or hunted leaves. She wouldn't let him touch the little dog.

Hunting season always brought out idiots. Whether it was petty cruelty or genuine inability to tell a dog from a deer, the bitch crawled into the yard with her pup, now about four months old following her. Dying, she lay her nose on his shoe, his dog for that one moment.

The pup mourned with the single-minded devotion of a creature that had lost the only thing that he loved. 

It ate and stayed near, sleeping on the grave that Walter had dug as he wept and cursed his human kind. It took all summer to claim that feral dog. It would disappear for days and come back scarred from some adventure. Walter felt like locking it in a kennel but the dog always seemed to know his intention and disappeared.

Finally, one day, it came in with four porcupine quills embedded in its swollen face. It was too far to take it to the vet. Walter pulled them out himself, the dog in a makeshift muzzle, which was almost unnecessary given the dog's unnatural acceptance that he was helping. After the dog healed, nursed with chicken soup and finally willing to accept the comfort of the cabin, Walter expected it to run off. It never did.

Damn dog stayed with him longer than Sharon did. It lived sixteen years; the best dog he had ever had. He couldn't stand to ever have another one. It wouldn't have been the same. 

In fact, the dog led him out of the wilderness. If a feral animal could learn to trust than be damned if Walter would let it beat him in a show of courage. He left the woods to attend college, to become a cop, and later to attend the FBI Academy. The dog was with him the entire way.

Now, why Krycek reminded him of Duke was beyond Walter, but somehow after that first occasion; when Krycek showed up with scraps of information and a new set of injuries, it became a ritual to feed him and to let him to sleep on the couch. He had the feeling he was going to be pulling out figurative quills any day now.

^^^^^^^^^^^

Each day was like an acid etching deeper into Walter's soul. He blew up at everyone, even at Kim, who least deserved a harsh word of any woman he'd met. Krycek had become their only hope. His progress reports were sketchy but Walter believed that he was truthful. 

No one could have played out a game with so many self-inflicted injuries for so long. 

Finally, Krycek stumbled in, barely on his feet, hand clasped to his shoulder. His leather jacket was rent. He was pale and wild-eyed. Dana was wrong. Mulder's attraction to Krycek was hardly moth to the flame. They were two incendiary devices on a juggernaut to some unknown destiny.

Walter steadied Krycek, walked him to the couch and lowered him. He opened the jacket and found the rough bandage made out of a clean tee shirt. Blood saturated the cloth, which told Walter enough.

Walter rapidly dialed Dana and said, "I need your trauma bag and your skills, Scully. I have Krycek here and he's bleeding badly."

The long silence was expected as was her resigned, "Give me a minute."

Dana showing up with Doggett was a surprise. They both looked as if they had dressed hastily. Well, Dana deserved a steady reliable man and the former New York cop was that. Walter said, "Agent Doggett, you realize that this is the sort of situation that you should avoid if you expect to ever get your career on track."

Doggett's sidelong glance at Dana said that he was smitten. She hadn't asked for the moon and stars on a platter, just to get her best friend back. 

Doggett eyed Krycek and said, "Doesn't look like he eats babies for breakfast."

Trying to look intimidating while lying down with his feet draped over a couch arm was no easy task. Krycek managed. He didn't deign to respond. Dana said, "I'll work in the kitchen. John, help Skinner get Krycek onto the table."

Shears clipped away the bloody sweater. Dana gingerly drew back the makeshift pressure bandage and said, "He lost a lot of blood, but it's stopped now." 

Krycek groaned as she probed the wound. It was a deep gouge.

"What happened?" Dana asked.

Krycek said, " I found an alien who didn't want to be plammed. I had to get through him to get the location of the base for the remaining mother ship. Mulder has to be there. The other two ships have been destroyed."

"You're sure that Mulder is there?" Dana asked, as she readied a needle.

"Yeah, they have them all there. I think they're giving up. What's going on is a clean up operation. Don't leave any modified technology even if it is in the body of the residents. I don't know if they want to hide the evidence from us or if maybe some James T. Kirk is really out there, enforcing the prime directive. Anyway, in ten more days, the ship will be there. The rebels are ready at last. They want to take the master races out. If we want to save Mulder and the other experiments, we have to be ready."

Walter said, "We will be. Where is the base?"

"Tierra Del Fuego. There's a sinkhole that took out several mines, very coincidentally, about the same time as a UFO sighting," Krycek said. A savage look crossed his face, "We'll send them to hell too. With him."

There was no need to ask who him was. Krycek's hatred of the Smoker ran too deep to be eased even by the man's blood.

Dana said, "Settle down, Krycek." She tapped the needle and moved closer to her patient.

Krycek looked at the needle with a peculiar expression. He asked, "What's that?"

"A pain killer," Dana said.

"No thanks," Krycek answered.

"Look, don't be a fool. This is going to hurt," Dana said.

"Thanks for all the concern, Scully, but..." Krycek averted his eyes. "I'm an addict. And I want to stay clean so, no, just do it."

Some instinct brought Walter forward to offer his hand. Krycek took it and held on, as tears leaked from his tightly closed eyes. Twenty stitches to close the jagged wound. Walter found himself flinching with the man as the needle slid in and out of the edges, drawing them together neatly.

Taking a shaky breath, Dana said, "Finished."

The neat bandage covered the wound and Krycek accepted aspirin, unwilling to take so much as a Tylenol Three. He was ashen, sodden with sweat; his lip trembled, showing flashes of strong white teeth. 

Walter said, "Doggett, help me put Krycek in my bed." In an aside to Krycek's shake of the head, he snapped, "You need a good night's rest which you won't get on my couch."

Dana followed them in, sat on his bed, taking Krycek's pulse. In an odd gesture, she pushed back a wisp of sable hair from the man's forehead. "Will you get him back, Krycek?"

The man's eyes opened and he said, "Yeah, I've screwed everything else up, but I can do this one last thing right."

What the hell did he mean? Was he suicidal? Walter shook back that thought, not wanting to consider it longer.

Dana placed a jar of pills on the table. She said, "Make sure that you finish these antibiotics, Krycek, who knows where that plam has been?"

A twitch of the lips acknowledged the humor. Krycek sank back into the pillows, a frown still creasing his forehead. Walter turned down the lights and said, "Call if you need anything."

Leaving the door open so he could hear Krycek, Dana and Walter walked out of the bedroom. Doggett said, "I'll wait for you in the hall."

As the door shut behind her new partner, Dana said, "About John, I suppose you don't think too much of me, starting a relationship while Mulder is lost to us."

Dana put her hand palm flat against Walter's chest. She met his eyes clearly, obviously wanting reassurance.

It seemed the right thing to do. He covered the hand and patted it, saying, "Mulder would want you to be happy. It's not like we're in mourning. We'll get him back. We're an unbeatable team."

Her smile was soft, her blue eyes misting. "I'm glad that he finally let you love him. After Alex, well, I thought he would never let himself trust again."

After Alex...Walter closed the door, deep in thought. Was there really an after? He didn't think so. Mulder's violent reaction during that meeting and what ever took place after that confrontation in the parking garage proved that. Walter scowled, remembering Mulder's hands gripping Krycek's shoulders, their bodies pressed together as Mulder forced his former lover against the car. Seeing that, Walter had felt both jealousy and an unwanted heat. He hadn't confronted Mulder. He was afraid to find out the answers to his unasked questions.

Although he intended to sleep in his bed, assuring himself that he would hear Krycek if his fever grew worse or if he tried to leave with such a severe injury, Walter put it off. He read a new agent's report, muttering in frustration at the lack of focus in the rambling narrative. 

He wanted to know about the case not the personal history of the participants unless that was relevant. Apparently, the man didn't know where the spell-check button was located. His endeavors were creative, if not conducive to clarity. Krycek had always written concise and carefully proofed reports. You could love a man for that almost.

His eyes were blurring by the time he finally gave into the drowsiness that had crept up to him. Krycek was huddled under the covers, looking waif-like and ill. 

Walter placed a hand on the forehead, smiled as he remembered his mother doing this although she always followed up with a kiss. The man felt warm, but not to the point where Dana should be called. Krycek opened his eyes. "You sure you want me here?"

Nodding, Walter got in beside Krycek. The man's eyes were still intent on him. "Do you need anything?" Walter asked.

"A new life. This one is fucked," Krycek replied. He raised his hand up to touch the bandaged shoulder.

Walter reminded him, "Don't fret at that."

"Yeah, I know." Krycek replied. He moistened his lips with a swipe of his catlike tongue. 

He said, "Skinner, about Mulder and I, you don't have to worry. If you make him choose, he said that he would choose you. I blew my chance."

That was an unexpected comment. Walter didn't know why Krycek wanted to reassure him. Then it hit him what Krycek had said. Mulder had told him, "If I have to choose?"

Did Mulder think that Walter would be content to have him go back and forth between two lovers? Between two lovers... God, that sent a rush of torrid thoughts into Walter's head, he couldn't help imagining Mulder in bed with both of them. Krycek and Mulder would be so beautiful together. The thought of them both kissing him, tasting him, caressing him, caused Walter to harden instantly like a horny teenager. 

Walter tried to will the erection away but it was demanding his attention. Even concentrating on the memory of the palm pilot didn't help. His perverse mind envisioned him wresting the control from Krycek and ripping the disguising wig and beard from the sullen, but lovely face... taking him and taming him.

With a groan, Walter rolled out of bed and got to his feet.

Amusement rippled in Krycek's voice. "Can't stand being this close to me, can you?"

"I just feel like I need a shower," Walter answered, not feeling up to a verbal sparring match. 

With the shower running to cover what little sound he could not repress, Walter first envisioned Mulder kneeling at his feet, clever hands caressing him as the delightful mouth explored his cock. Unfortunately, even in his dreams, Mulder was unpredictable. "I brought you a present...come to bed, Walter." 

Krycek, two armed, baby faced as when they had first met, lolled on the bed, naked, on his stomach, and offering his succulent mounds of his ass to Walter. 

Mulder's voice was smoky and rich as sage honey. He said, "Just start anywhere, Walter, it's all for you."

Fantasy couldn't hurt, right? Walter obeyed his lover. His hands were large enough to cup the peach fuzz soft rounds of Krycek's ass. He massaged them, gradually reaching his fingers around to explore the trembling thighs. Krycek quivered like a nervous thoroughbred, hot to be ridden. 

Walter pulled Krycek's hips closer as he ran his thumb along the already lubricated crack. 

"Why Mulder, you shouldn't have!" Walter exclaimed, envisioning his lover's lustful smile.

"Take him. He's so hot, so ready," Mulder said, sinking onto the bed. He was going to watch, make them his own little porn show.

Since it was a dream, Walter slid his naked cock into the easily opened hole. He gripped Krycek's hips and rode him harder then he would ever have treated a lover in real life. It didn't matter because Krycek was squirming and pleading for more, thrusting backward as he moaned Walter's name...they came together. Walter slid down to sit on the tub edge before hastily washing the come from his body. He waited until his breathing had returned to normal before dressing in his pajamas. 

Krycek's eyes glittered for a moment as Walter got back into bed. He said, "I like your bed. It's comfortable."

"Good. I'm glad. Now get some sleep." Walter directed.

Walter said, a half forgotten wisp of Mulder planted vampire lore rearing its head. Now, you've done it. Once invited, Krycek could always climb into his bed. 

A Mulder like voice laconically added, "As if that's a bad thing?"

^^^^^^

Two days later...

The man needed to be tied up. Walter collared Krycek as the man headed out the door. "Where the hell do you think that you are going?"

"I have to check on supplies," Krycek said.

"John and Dana are taking care of that," Walter said, "Dana said you need to rest. She's seriously concerned about an infection and she says that you're anemic. In fact, I have just the thing in mind. How do you feel about liver and onions?"

"It's revenge, right?" Krycek asked, shuddering.

"Right, and I plan to enjoy watching you eat every bite. Sit on the couch. Turn on the TV. Pretend to be human for once," Walter instructed.

The flutter of the luxuriant lashes betrayed something. He had hurt the man's feelings. The rat bastard had feelings?

Retreating to the kitchen, Walter heated the cast iron skillet that had once adorned his mother's kitchen. He'd dragged it with him ever since he left that cabin, a tangible reminder that some things last. Potatoes went in first. The liver needed to be a little pink so he would hold off on that. He wept over the onion, a Walla Walla sweet, one of God's little gifts to man. The sizzling sounds were satisfying and he looked forward to the breakfast. The one time that he'd tried this meal on Mulder, the man ran from the apartment, muttering, Tooms...

Thirty minutes later, Walter set platters on the table. Rounds of oranges decorated the sides. The liver was spiraled with the onion slices. The potatoes were crisp at the sides the way Walter liked them.

Krycek came over and sat down, his nose sniffing the air. He said, "Since you fussed over it," he had a curious expression. "I never ate liver before."

"It's something your mom makes you try," Walter replied, sitting down himself.

"Well, as I said, a mom was never part of my life. I've always been alone like a hawk circling overhead, looking for the rabbits."

Amused, Walter responded, "Funny, I've seen hawks. They take good care of their fledglings. I've seen them together until the young ones stop making five point landings trying to catch something."

Scowling, Krycek took a bite. He commented, "I've had worse." 

Walter let the man wash the dishes, but not his frying pan. That took the special scrubbing stone so the patina of use would not be marred. It took years to season cast iron just right. More impatient people would go through dozen Teflon coated skillets in the time it took to develop just the right finish on a cast iron pan.

"Now what?" Krycek asked as he dried the plates. 

"You rest. I have to go put an appearance in at work. Don't go out," Walter instructed.

^^^^^

The apartment was clean when Walter arrived home. Krycek had tidied without misplacing one thing. Walter believed that every magazine was within a millimeter of the position in which he had left them. Only the clutter and dust was missing.

The few times Mulder had spent the weekend at Walter's apartment, it looked like a troop of chimpanzees had invaded. It wasn't malicious. It was just the man's nature. He wandered wherever his thoughts took him and they covered a lot of territory. You could trace his progress by the trail of objects that had briefly caught his interest, been carried around, and abandoned as another event distracted him. Krycek was nothing like Mulder.

Krycek was napping when Walter entered the bedroom. He opened one eye long enough to see that it was him before tucking one of his guns back between the headboard and the mattress. He wasn't the kind of guy you wanted to wake suddenly.

Sitting silently, Walter watched Krycek sleep. A crease indented over his nose from time to time and his lips would quiver. Giving in, Walter stroked gently down one side of Krycek's face. The wrinkle smoothed and the face stilled. He settled his cheek against Walter's hand; his drowsy body telling more than his words would ever speak.

^^^^

That evening was spent planning. Dana and Doggett worked well together. Both were analytical and logical. They poked holes in plans, allowing Krycek to propose fixes and Walter to watch the whole of the strategy, keeping the timetable in mind. 

The alien rebel arrived, wearing the face of Walter's landlord and then in front of Doggett's wide eyes, took on a broad-faced guise. One of the Kurts, Krycek said. The shape shifter was a hybrid and his genome was based on that model of clone. Walter remembered it from Mulder's files. He did read the damn things and they were hard to forget.

So the plan was made. The alien rebels were going to make a frontal attack. Dangerous for them, but necessary for the covert attack at the rear that Walter would lead. 

The Rebels had been busy developing some surprises for their former masters. It wasn't going to be pretty. Slave rebellions seldom were. However the fireworks would keep the master race occupied. 

One of the former slaves had crept out using a series of passages surviving from the old mines. They would go in that way. Walter noted that Krycek paled as they discussed the spelunking. He'd have to find out why later after Dana and Doggett left.

^^^^^

However, as soon as Dana and Doggett exited, Krycek had a strange fire in his eyes. He turned on Rickie Lee Jones and turned down the lights.

"What the hell are you doing?" Walter demanded, trying not to follow Krycek's hand, as it unbuttoned his black silk shirt. 

The shirt dangled from the one real hand before whispering to the floor. Krycek paused than slid his hand down his chest, calling attention to the smooth skin over sharply defined muscles. 

"You on some kind of starvation diet?" Walter asked, "You were never this thin even when I first met you."

"Saw you looking that time at the gym. The boxing lesson was fun though," Krycek replied. His head tilted sideways in a pose too gamin not to be intentional.

"I should have remembered what a hard hitter you were. I always wondered what else you were good at."

Walter really should have stopped him from unzipping his trousers and letting them fall. However, instead, he stared as Krycek dropped boxers to the floor and stepped away from the pile of clothing. 

Eyes of dazzling splendor gazed from beneath a seductive veil of lashes.

"Think of this as therapy. We have to work together and you need to...relax." Krycek touched the strap that held on his prosthesis and asked, "On or off?"

"Whatever you want." Walter answered. 

Picking up his clothing, something Mulder never did, Krycek carried it with him to the bedroom. Walter stood, trying to decide whether to run out of his own apartment or to rush after Krycek and toss his naked ass out the door...

Hell, no, Walter mustered an indignant snort. Krycek was the one who had caused his state of tension. The relief that he offered was acceptable, no, Walter felt that he was entitled to it.

And it didn't mean that Walter's feelings had changed. Krycek was still the vermin he had always been even if he was a damned attractive rat.

His decision was made. Walter called out, "I'm going to shower first."

If Walter had expected the brief respite from temptation to help, it did not. He put on a robe, not bothering to tie it. His erection bobbed eagerly as he walked the brief distance to his bedroom.

Krycek lay like an offering upon the dark blue sheets. His eyes were closed; his lashes feathered richly black against his pale skin. His hand stroked his cock, a beautiful flesh instrument, filling slowly as the languid hand coaxed it. 

Gripping the hand in mid stroke, Walter said, "You're a rude son of a bitch. Didn't your mother ever tell you to wait to be served?"

"Can't say that I ever met the woman," Krycek replied, opening his eyes. "I didn't figure that you would want to waste a lot of time with me. I thought I'd just give you what you need."

"I need Mulder." Walter replied, but he hung the robe on the bedpost. 

Krycek's eyes averted at that and his lips tightened in reaction, making Walter sorry that he had said it.

A moment later, Alex stirred on the bed, the undulation emphasizing his beauty. It was as if he had invoked some internal magic to fill Walter with desire.

Sparks of heat ignited all over Walter's brawny frame. 

"Nice. I can't say I never looked in the past, but it's the first time that it was safe to really linger," Krycek commented, his hand lifting toward Walter as he knelt on the bed. 

As they came close, Walter wanted to kiss Alex, but he hesitated. To Walter, that was more intimate than sex. He thought guiltily of his lover; Mulder loved to kiss. They spent hours exploring each other, teasing and tasting. If he kissed Krycek, it seemed as if he was taking this too seriously.

Krycek crept across the bed to him, reminding him of some wary animal approaching. Head down, submissive, probably acting a role, but still sexy as hell, the man made his way toward Walter. His right hand stroked along the furred thigh enticingly.

"Sir?" Krycek said, the single word thrilling Walter, inviting him to play it out. "May I?"

Walter's throat constricted. Goddamn the boy for striking this hidden urge in him.

Finally Walter sprawled, opening his legs to allow Krycek access to him. "Yeah, do it. Make it good, boy," The deep voice rumbling from his chest surprised Walter. He sounded like a hungry bear even to himself.

Nuzzling, Krycek's small nose teased him. Hot breath tickled next. Walter arched, grabbed a handful of hair, and growled, "I said do it! Now!"

A small smile lifted the corner of the sweet mouth. How the hell could the man look like an angel and live like the devil? 

Walter released the sable hair and waited. Now Krycek stopped teasing. His mouth traced the length of Walter's cock. His tongue was cunning, tantalizing with hints of more. His mouth brushed and coaxed before it slowly encompassed Walter.

The shock of it sent Walter's body arching in frenzied longing for more. Krycek seemed determined to give Walter as much pleasure as he had given pain.

Holding back, Walter said, "I want to fuck you, Krycek."

After a moment, amused eyes looked back, "Yeah, I thought you would." Krycek licked his shining lips and prowled back up towards Walter. He posed, round cheeks brazenly offered, wiggling in the air. He had a beautiful back, hairless, the spine was an exquisitely delineated line; the broad shoulders were molded with muscle and the waist almost impossibly narrow. His hips were surprisingly broad for such a lean man. 

Moving, Walter knelt behind the beautiful offering. He tugged and said, "I want to see you."

The face, which turned toward him, looked surprised. Krycek asked, "I thought you'd rather pretend I was someone else."

"Don't make assumptions," Walter growled. "Wait though. Let me..."

Bending over the ass, Walter spread the cheeks wide and laved the opening with an exploring tongue. Krycek muttered, "You don't have to go through all that trouble."

"Shut up, Krycek. If this is for me, do it my way," Walter replied.

Krycek's body unfurled to him. Krycek was trembling by the time Walter coaxed him onto his back. The man wore a strange expression on his face. He was turned on; his erection was surging upward toward his stomach in a begging question mark. Still, his arm covered his face. 

Walter asked, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yeah, "the voice growled. "Come on, we both need this."

The legs wrapped around Walter insistently. He was tight as Mulder was, but more yielding as his flesh enfolded Walter as if the penetrating cock was some missing part of him. 

His voice rasped as he pleaded for more. His soft grunts grew more frantic as Walter sped toward orgasm. It was an act of will to slow down, to become one with the yearning heat of Krycek's flesh and bring him with Walter, all the way. 

Separating was a shock. Krycek turned on his side, turned away instantly, body pulling inward and removed. His breathing didn't recover when Walter's did. He drew rapid, deep gasps as if...as if Krycek was crying. 

Regrets, venomous things in the light that shone on the battlefield of the bed, slithered through Walter's head. Why the hell had he done it? Right, he knew. Because he was lonely and needy. 

Who needed much reason when Alex Krycek was beautiful and offering himself because of whatever convoluted excuse for logic existed in that elegant head? The final blandishment was that Krycek was just scarred enough to make Walter feel whole...

Whatever the excuses, it had been good and Walter was too good a man to just take without caring. He turned toward the man that he had just fucked. "Alex, Alex, are you all right?"

Out of the bed, Krycek was hurrying toward the suitcase that had turned up the second day when Krycek was not supposed to be out of bed for more than a quick trip to the bathroom. "What the hell's wrong with you? Did I hurt you?"

The laughter rent the air. Krycek replied, "You wish. I just wanted to see if you would... Don't flatter yourself. Mulder said you were easy. Guess he was right."

It happened without Walter even thinking. He caught Alex by his one arm and swung him back onto the bed. He pulled the man over his knees and held one hand firmly on his spine. The other rose and fell in a steady series of swats. In shock, Krycek took it. 

Walter said, "I'm sick of your games, Krycek. I'm sick of your lip. If you had a mother, she should have done this a long time ago."

That ass was so beautiful that it was a shame to mar it. Still, Walter had the feeling that if he stopped now that Krycek was lost. Now that he had supplied the information, they didn't need him as much, but it still mattered somehow.

Walter yelled, "When we go in, there will be one leader and that's me, Krycek. I'll make the decisions and I don't want to hear any questioning. Do you understand?"

His hand was sore. His legs were going numb and still his hand thundered blows on the tender and now rosy flesh. Krycek was sobbing. His cursing had stopped and now he merely cried, heartbroken, heart breaking sobs. 

Finally, Krycek begged, "No more. I ...give in. Please. Please, sir."

Walter's hand felt as if it was swollen. Krycek's ass looked as ruby red as a ripe apple. "All right," Walter started to move Krycek off his crushed thighs, but the man turned and buried his face in Walter's neck.

"I'm afraid." 

"Afraid of what?" Walter asked, hand rubbing the sleek back.

"Of the tunnels. Of being trapped down there. Alone, no food, no water, no hope," Krycek said.

Walter thought about it. The silo. Of course, the man had been left to die in one by Spender. 

Mulder had told him about it. Of course, Mulder had also been observant on that ill-fated trip to Russia. He said that Krycek had gone nuts in the cell at the gulag, nearly having a full fledged panic attack.

"You won't be alone," Walter said.

Lifting the small chin, Walter looked into the wide green eyes. He said, "I won't leave you, Alex. I promise that," 

Gathering up Alex's one hand, he stroked it and said, "Trust me, Alex." It didn't surprise him to hear the man's first name leave his lips. This was one hell of a confusing situation for both of them.

"I do. Trust you." Krycek said. "Mulder was always my weakness and they used it over and over again. When I came here, I was going to do the right thing, get Mulder back and get out of his life. I didn't expect to feel anything for you. Now..."

Pulling away, Krycek slumped over and then lay on his belly. His hand explored his burning ass. "What the hell was that about anyway?"

"It seemed the logical thing to do at the time." Walter offered.

"Right, Sarek." Krycek replied. 

Walter said, "I couldn't stand to see you leave, Alex." His hand stroked the sable locks. "That was about a lot of things. I care about you."

Sternly, Walter added, "But I really meant it about one leader."

"Okay," Krycek said. "I can do that. As long as you listen to what I know. The Smoker never did."

"I hardly want to repeat his errors especially considering the end results," Walter said.

"Already refused to kill you once. He always underestimated you, just as he did me. Spender was a fool," Krycek said. 

Offering a hand, Walter said, "Come on, let's have a shower."

It had been a guileless offer. However the body was classic, damaged, more beautiful for the contrast of the scars, but hardly innocent. Washing the back, careful of the rosy cheeks, Walter felt his need on the rise. Alex leaned into him, put his hand on Walter's erection, thrusting his own with demanding certainty toward Walter. It was almost more of an aftershock, but it was sweet for the slow pace, for the tender exploring of each other's flesh. Later, Walter kissed the nape of Alex's neck as he dried his back later. 

"I thought Mulder was a lucky man at first. I never thought I'd have a chance to know how lucky," Walter whispered as they got back into the remade bed. 

Alex turned to him, willing to move closer now. "You knew?"

"A good boss knows when not to ask any questions," Walter commented. "And you were not exactly discreet. There was talk."

"I know. They laughed at Mulder over that too," Alex said. "I had choices, I guess. I just kept letting my fear and my anger make the wrong ones. I kept thinking that he should have loved me more, made me stay."

"Swatted your ass when you tried to run out on him?" Walter joked.

Alex blushed and said, "Something like that. You going to do that again?"

"Are you going to try to run out on me again?" Walter demanded. 

Something rose from the dark oceanic depths of those green eyes. Alex's expression held inquiry and wonder. He answered, "No, I'll stay. You'll get tired of me soon enough when Mulder is back."

A fleeting vision of the three-way fantasy teased Walter's mind. He said, "We'll see. As you said, all in good time."

^^^^^^^^^

Heavily laden with packs, the four of them bent over as they escaped the turbulence of the helicopter. Alex recovered first. He stood with the eerie lights in the background illuminating his otherworldly beauty like the gilt and crimson on a Russian icon. His breath escaped in sharp puffs, crystals forming in a scintillating cloud. His eyes were extraordinary in this atmosphere, peridot-green and gleaming. Walter couldn't take his eyes off him. Sidelong glances told him that Dana and even Doggett were also moved.

Adjusting his pack, Alex said, "Our guide will meet us over on the other side of that gorge. Let's get going."

Doggett remarked, "I never thought that South America could be so cold."

"Antarctica is twenty miles in that direction," Alex said, pointing. 

Doggett stared off into the featureless distance and said, "No kidding. I never knew that."

They trudged through a sleet-laden gale, bending nearly double against the gusts. Every stunted tree and bush was gnarled and shaped by the wind into a tormented figure. It looked like a garden as painted by Hieronymus Bosch.

The wind eased after they fought their way down but the going was rough. Walter felt the sweat prickling under the decontamination gear. He had thought the gym kept him in shape, but this was a different sort of exertion. He envied Alex who seemed to climb like a mountain goat despite his handicap. The opposite side of the draw held a sharp cut in the bank with a spill of rocks. Walter couldn't tell if it was natural or man-made, but it did provide a stepping stone arrangement that was easier to climb.

Krycek tilted his head after they reached the top of the opposite side. He seemed to be listening for something and, after a moment, he grimly nodded and said, "He's here."

Shortly thereafter, they saw a large figure, unmoving despite the shrieking force of the wind. Krycek said, "That's our guide."

Doggett's blank expression gave way to horror as he saw the creature that greeted them. It looked like a badly reanimated corpse. All of its orifices were sealed shut. Walter hadn't seen one of these either, but he was familiar with its description. Still the visual impact was worse than Walter had imagined. The thing's flesh was a morbid mauve color, livid around the sealed eyes, ears, nose, and mouth. 

How the hell did it function? How did it see? What did it eat and how? Walter swallowed as bile rose in his throat. Alex said, "Yeah, I know it takes some getting used to. Let's take a minute, okay? I want to make sure that all of you know how to use the plams and the flame-throwers."

Squatting in a semicircle, the three FBI agents examined their equipment as Alex demonstrated. Alex said, 'The flame-throwers are the only things that work for the Oiliens. Although, in a pinch, a fire extinguisher will slow them down. Freezing doesn't kill them, but it sends them into a dormant stage. They don't look like much, but they are quick. Don't touch anything without being very sure that it is clear of the black oil. The hybrids are the easiest to kill. The plam goes here..."

Alex bent the alien rebel's head to show them the sweet spot. "If you're good enough, a solid blast of automatic fire will do it. You have to destroy the spine though and don't get to near the things. The fumes can blind you or kill you. The last form that we have to fear is the Grays. They are vicious, but not intelligent. You kill them with armor piercing shot. Hit them someplace major the first time. You won't get a second chance."

You had to admire the man, Walter thought. How long had he been living in this nightmare, fighting creatures so alien and terrifying? Alex stood, shrugging his pack back on. They were all wearing a type of armored decontamination suits. Alex tugged down the helmet and sealed the connections. Walter took the lead; Alex flanked him as Doggett took the rear, putting Dana in the middle. She was starting to show and was slower with the pregnancy. 

The mine entrance was through a crookedly sunken building. They took a lift down, the smooth functioning indicating the alien rebels had used it on previous missions. Alex leaned back against the wall. His face had taken on the familiar feral alertness that Walter had thought in the past was all there was to him. He was wound, but under control.

Walter said, "Stay with me, Alex, when we get below. We'll get each other through it."

The man nodded. He said, "Just one more thing. I'm here to get Mulder out and to set some charges to help the rebels. The other prisoners are a second priority to me. The rest of you can see to them while I look for him."

Dana commented, "I think we guessed that your self-interest was the only thing driving you. I suppose it's lucky that you consider Mulder part of your well being."

"Fuck you, Scully," Alex shot back.

It took a firm hand to keep Doggett back. Walter said, "Knock it off. We're a team and we have to depend on each other. Correct."

No one met his eyes. Walter snapped, "Do you all understand?"

Three sheepish murmurs acknowledged him. "All right, let's go."

^^^^^^^^^^^

The first part of the passage was not bad. It wasn't until they hit the first cave-in that it became difficult. Alex assured them that the rebels has shored up the walls. The rubble concealed supports that guaranteed they would not be buried. Even as Alex told them that, his lips, pink and pretty as porcelain doll's, drew into a rat-like curl, flattening against his large white teeth. His pupils expanded to leave only a thin ring of green. Walter saw a slight tremble in Alex's hand. It surprised him when Alex turned resolutely to crawl through the passage. 

Doggett took the lead after their guide. He had done some spelunking in his day and seemed comfortable despite the damp walls and the weight of the earth looming down on them. Dana followed. If she was frightened, she would be damned before she would show it in front of Krycek.

The passage wound down; it felt like the earth pulled them toward its core. Walter knew there was plenty of oxygen, but it still felt as if it was hard to breathe. Every dislodged rock echoed as it tumbled. They froze repeatedly, cringing, waiting for a slide to crush them. Walter listened to Alex's lungs labor as he gasped fearfully. He waited a moment as they came to a broadening of the tunnel. Reaching to Alex, he asked, "Okay?"

"Fine," Alex answered. Then, he added, "Not so fine, but I am going to do it. I have to do get him out."

Walter took Alex's hand, squeezed it and said, "We'll get him out. I'm with you. I won't leave you."

Green eyes blinked in the light of their headlamps. Alex nodded and swallowed hard. "Yeah," he said softly.

^^^^^^^^^^^^

Finally they emerged from behind a metal panel mostly concealed by a stack of barrels. Alex dropped to a crouch, taking several rapid breaths, his face tilted toward the ceiling as if in supplication. 

"Claustrophobia?" Doggett asked.

Walter nodded. Doggett remarked, "Took guts to come down here then."

Even Dana nodded. There were two corridors. Dana and Doggett took one. Walter and Alex the other. Alex moved ahead glancing into each cell and impatiently pushing forward. He made brief stops to plant his explosives, but even so, Walter was hard pressed to keep pace.

The first few cells held nothing but human remains. The abdomens looked as if something had clawed its way from within. Walter hurried on, trying to keep Alex in sight. 

About halfway down the corridor, Walter found a living person. He used a skeleton key to unlock the cell door. The woman, who huddled inside, sprang up. She was dressed in rags that barely managed to keep her decent. Her long hair was tangled and her face covered with grime. She asked, "Who are you?"

"A rescue party," Walter explained. "Try to keep up. We don't have much time."

"I will. My daughter's here somewhere. A little girl. She's only five," the woman said, hope and fear both evident in her voice.

"Here's a kid," yelled Alex, opening the door of a cell. He went in and emerged with a terrified little girl.

The mother grabbed the child with a moan of relief. The instant she touched her daughter, she seemed to find new strength.

"Abby," she murmured, "Abby, mommy is here."

With a curt nod, Alex said, "Keep up," and moved forward.

Moans and whimpers sounded from behind the next metal door. Walter stopped to use his lock kit on the door, letting a man in a police uniform stumble out. He blinked and wavered on his feet, staring at Walter as if deciding if he was a hallucination. He asked, "Did you come to rescue us?"

A bit shamed because truthfully he had only thought about getting his lover back, Walter said, "Yeah, do you know Agent Mulder?"

"Yes. He's here somewhere," the man said. 

His heart leaping in response to that, Walter said, "Good, come on. Keep moving."

The next cell held a Gray, which leapt at him with mindless fury. Walter hit the raptor skull dead center. He froze afterwards, not understanding or believing what he saw. 

Its shattered skull housed a predator's teeth, crocodile-like and yellow. The arms were short and ended in long claws. Its hide had a slimy appearance, the only thing that linked it to the oil form of the first stage. The shattered remains of its host lay in the background.

"No time to analyze the damn things now," Alex's voice said roughly.

They had collected three men and another woman by this time. The last cell held a naked man, writhing in pain. His stomach was grossly swollen. Something was moving behind the transparently thin skin covering the abdomen. Walter approached the captive, uncertain what to do. 

A thin stream of pink fluid bubbled along the distended flesh. The rescued people screamed, "Kill it." 

Still Walter hesitated. The skin parted. In sick horror, Walter watched a claw scrabble out. It was wet and soft looking, but hardening even as he gazed. Just as the reptilian skull emerged, a shot rang out and another. The infant terror died as it was born.

Shock kept Walter down for a moment, but as he scrabbled to his feet, he saw Alex. "He was already dead," Alex explained.

Nodding, Walter backed away from the dead man and his parasite.

"Mulder's not here," Alex said. 

The man in the police uniform said, "There's a room where they do experiments. He might still be in there."

Dana and Doggett were waiting when they reemerged into the main room between the two corridors. They had their own collection of former prisoners. Alex shoved a black leather case at Dana and said, "Give them the treatment and start for the surface. We'll follow in a minute. Mulder's held something place different.

Walter watched Dana's expression twist. He understood that she was torn between her lover for her partner and her duty. He had so often felt the same. He was glad that he was the one this time who was free to follow his heart.

A nod and a glare at Alex acknowledged that Dana agreed. She was already filling a hypodermic by the time Walter turned away to follow Alex.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

The guards must have been drawn away to the struggle at the front of the enclave. There were various rooms, full of alien and human technology, none of it making sense to Walter. Alex hissed curses as he set additional charges.

When they found him, Walter feared that his lover was dead. He lay on a strange table that seemed almost more like a stone alter. The restraints that held him pierced his flesh, yet the wounds did not bleed. Walter groaned as he saw the barbs that held Mulder. Hearing that, hazel eyes opened; they were undaunted even here and gleaming with the fierce light of his intelligence. 

"It's about time," Mulder croaked. "What took you so long?"

Walter needed to do something, but the hooks seemed worse then porcupine quills. Walter looked for a release, but Alex was quicker. He stroked his hand above a glowing light on a panel and the restraints slid out of Mulder's flesh, leaving no trace of blood or injury. 

Screaming came from beyond the corridor. It didn't sound human. Alex said, "We have to move. The rebels are going to blow the ship up."

"Good, I want to see that," Mulder said, "I can walk."

Supporting Mulder between them, the two men ran back toward the hidden entrance. Alex showed no sign of hesitation now. He took the lead, pulling Mulder along as Walter aided from behind. Walter wanted to ask how long they had before those charges blew, but couldn't spare a breath. Besides, he could tell by Alex's expression that it was going to be close.

Dana and Doggett were just pulling the last straggler from the passage when Walter, Mulder and Alex emerged from the tunnel into the mouth of the cave. 

Alex yelled, "Run. Come on! Move! Those charges are going to blow."

They ran, pulling the weaker survivors along. Walter and Alex half carried Mulder between them. A child was across Walter's broad back, and a woman clung to his other arm. Even Dana was burdened with the weight of two teenagers. Not even Alex suggested they leave anyone. These people had earned their lives twice over. 

The troop carrier that Alex had phoned to meet them loaded them all as quickly as they could be tumbled inside. The helicopters rose and strained to get as far from the site as possible. As they hovered over the ocean, waves of turbulence shook them.

Alex said, fiercely, "The rebels are free now."

The smaller stealth helicopter was overcrowded with the four FBI agents and Alex. Dana hovered over Mulder, seemingly surprised at his condition. Compared to the other captives, he was well nourished and seemed to have no obvious injuries. Walter crouched near, swaying with the still choppy movement of the copter. He reached out, taking Mulder's free hand as Dana took his pulse.

"What did they do to you?" Walter asked.

"Hell, if I know," Mulder admitted. "How long since Oregon?"

"Nine months," Walter said. "Nine months of hell. I was afraid you were dead."

"Any water here?" Mulder asked.

Stepping over Doggett's legs, Alex made his way back and offered a flask. Dana took it and said, "Thank you." She held it for Mulder to drink.

"That's good," Mulder said, "More?"

"In a little while," Dana admonished. She smiled and said, "You aren't in too bad of shape all things considered. Some of the others are going to need a lot of medical care."

"I was privileged," Mulder muttered, "the favorite son, a hybrid bastard that was bred to betray my race. My purpose was to sire a race of slaves. They just wanted to make a few more changes. Take away more of my humanity."

Alex knelt and reached a hand toward Mulder, touching his shoulder. His expression was yearning, but hesitant.

Mulder covered the hand with his own and said, "Thank you, Alex. I know you helped me and I know about you and Walter. They let me see you sometimes, you, Walter, and Scully. It was supposed to torture me, I think. Make me think that everyone just went on without me. It didn't work. It made me stronger to know that you were working together. I knew that you wouldn't forget, not any of you."

Taking over, Dana said, "Rest, Mulder, rest for a while."

As soon as Mulder closed his eyes, Alex retreated back to sit beside Doggett, who appeared to be trying to digest the events of the last few hours. Walter sympathized. He hadn't believed in alien's either until he saw them steal his lover. 

As for Alex, well, the conversation he wanted to have would need to wait. 

^^^^^^^^^^^ 

Ambulances met them at the airport. In the commotion, Alex vanished. Walter was annoyed, but his first concern was Mulder for now. But later, well, later, he'd drag the rat back from whatever hole he'd found. Walter was not the kind of man who let go easily. 

The doctors at the military hospital pronounced Mulder to be reasonably fit. He was suffering from malnutrition, dehydration, and general exhaustion, but he was not in critical condition by any means. Walter and Dana were with him when he woke. 

The hazel eyes scanned the room and seemed a little disappointed, but Mulder quickly recovered, reaching his hand out to Dana. She ran to the bed and sat down, hugging her partner lovingly. "I knew you weren't dead. I kept the X-Files open for you and I looked when I could." Her face crumpled as she said, "But I didn't know where they had taken you." 

"Hey, it's okay. I'm back," Mulder reassured. His eyes met Walter's with a yearning expression. 

Doggett poked his head in, his expression, after surveying the scene, was very uneasy. He said, "I set up some guards over the other victims." 

Patting Dana's arm in benediction, Mulder pointed at Doggett and said, "I think your partner wants you." 

"Mulder?" Dana said, "about John? I..." 

"It's okay. You look good together. Go on. Have a cup of coffee. I think Walter and I have a lot to talk about it," Mulder admonished. 

Still looking uneasy, Dana left, Doggett's hand finding hers as the door closed behind them. Walter walked over and cupped Mulder's face and met those dry lips in a deep breath-taking kiss. "I love you," he said, daring now to put into words what they had refused to say to each other in the past. 

Apparently, Mulder agreed that it was time to stop pretending it was less than it was. He said, "Yeah, I know. Same here." 

So many feelings crowding in, the urge to break down, he was tired of being strong, tired of pretending that he didn't feel the way he did about Mulder. Walter could only hold his lover as if he never wanted to let him go. 

Mischievous eyes danced a few moments later. Mulder said, "You were pretty hot together, you and Alex." 

Drawing back, Walter felt his face grow scarlet. He couldn't find any words. He remembered Mulder saying that the aliens had let him see them at times, but had forgotten it in the joy of having his lover back. He set his jaw, determined not to cheapen what had happened between he and Alex. He said, "He needed me and I needed..." 

The impulse was to say, needed someone, but that wasn't exactly true. He had needed Alex and had taken him. Walter said, "I suppose I always was attracted to Alex. Somehow working that closely and taking care of him made that become a stronger emotion." 

"I think you know what I want," Mulder said, "after all we've been through, we're due a little honesty. I've never cared what people thought of me and have seldom done what people think I should. I want you both and I think that Alex and you want the same thing." 

Dropping his eyes, Walter let that absorb into his consciousness. It should have been shocking, but it wasn't. It was right for the three of them and he did agree that they had earned it. 

"One small problem," Walter admitted, "I don't know where he is." 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ 

Alex may have disappeared but his occupation was obvious. Empires were crumpling; key players found dead or vanishing from place and installations destroyed. Walter worried, not so much about Mulder, who was doing well, but about Alex out there on his own and perhaps feeling that he had no more reason to be careful of his life. 

^^^^^^^^^ 

The day that Mulder was due for discharge, Walter awoke from a semi-doze as a nurse entered the room. She said, "Someone wants to see you, a Mr. Krycek. Should I have the guards let him in?" 

"Yes," Walter agreed, after Mulder nodded. 

Noticing Mulder sit straighter, smooth his hair; Walter knew that it was the right choice. 

It had only been four days, but Krycek looked as if he had dropped ten pounds in that amount of time, weight that he had not stood to lose, given that he had never put back on the flesh he had lost in that prison in Tunisia. He had taken time to shower, he was neatly dressed in one of his good suits, and his hair was freshly trimmed. The roses he held completed the picture of a suitor. 

Walter moved out of the chair that he occupied near Mulder's bed. He gestured for Alex to sit in it and leaned against the wall. 

Mulder smiled slightly and said, "So there you are." 

"I brought you flowers," Alex said. He thrust the bouquet at Mulder. With the blossoms out of his hands, he didn't seem to know what to do. He rested his hands on his knees, drummed his fingers against his leg, and shifted in the chair. 

The roses sat on Mulder's bed until Walter rescued them, moving some faded ones to the garbage to use the vase. He was happy enough to have something to do. 

The silence broke with Mulder's soft laugh. He said, "This isn't like you, Alex. You were always so self-confidant. From the very start, Krycek, Alex, Krycek, I knew you liked James Bond right at that moment. You like to be seen as secretive and in control, but that's not how your profile reads to me right now. So how come you ran away so quickly after we were safe?" 

"I had a lot of...loose ends to tie up," Alex said. He averted his eyes, his chin jerking in a sharp gesture, familiar to Walter from late night discussions before the rescue. 

Mulder's hand went out insistently until Alex took it. He said, "You can kiss me, Alex. Don't try to tell me that you don't want to." 

Alex's eyes asked Walter for permission. Walter nodded silently, almost hopefully, knowing what he wanted to happen. 

Leaning close to Mulder, eyes closed, Alex waited for Mulder to complete the kiss. Mulder's hand, long, sensitive finger's splayed tenderly, caressed Alex's cheek and then drew him forward. They both drew sharp breaths and then their lips met, and stayed joined for a long moment. 

When the kiss ended, Mulder pulled Alex into an embrace; the man's face pressed against his chest. 

"Mulder. Mulder," Alex choked out. 

Hands stroking through Alex's short hair, Mulder rocked him, cheek resting against his lover's head. His eyes met Walter's and he held out his hand. 

It was an easy decision to accept it. He sat on the bed, Mulder leaning against him. Walter lifted Alex's head, met his eyes. He said, "You didn't have to run away. There's a place for you." 

"A place where you belong," Mulder added. "Come home with us today, Alex." 

The yearning that shone from Alex's green eyes could have melted stone. He looked back and forth between them, shoulders hunched as if waiting to be told it was a trick. 

"We're serious," Walter said, "all you have to say is yes." 

There was one moment when Alex drew back from them both; Walter thought that he meant to run. The knuckles of Mulder's fingers whitened as he held on to Alex, determined not to let him flee this time. Walter added his hand on Alex's right arm, letting him know that he was safe and taking the fear of choice from him. 

The one word escaped as an epiphany. "Yes." 

The three men held each other, complete at last. 

Breaking away, Alex said, "I still have work to do, pockets of this mess to clean up. I won't be able to do it your way, Walter." 

Eyes glinting with humor, Alex added, "Not your way either, Mulder. This won't be a matter for courts. There can't be any of the aliens left except the rebels nor can I leave the men who sold us out in power. It's still war and I have to fight it the way I know best." 

"We'll help you," Mulder declared easily. 

The taste of compromise and playing it safe had long paled for Walter. He nodded and said, "Anyway that we can." 

"Okay," Alex agreed. 

^^^^^^^ 

Later that day, Alex waited by the car as Walter wheeled a complaining Mulder out, having agreed to enforce the hospital rule in this respect. The moment Mulder was outside, he scrambled out of the chair. "Stupid rule," Mulder said, "I can't wait to eat some real food." 

"Liver and onions," Alex suggested with a sidelong glance at Walter. 

"Not hardly," was Mulder's response. 

There was a moment at the car door when three hands seemed all to reach at the same time, finding each other's instead. Walter firmly held onto his lovers and said, "Wherever we go with this, however it ends, we go there together." 

Two hands gripped his. Together. The future looked brighter than the lights in the sky. 

The end 


End file.
